


Just Let Me Adore You

by erethesunrises



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christine's in control here, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, they're both switches and you can't tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erethesunrises/pseuds/erethesunrises
Summary: Christine can't focus on preparing for her next role, and she knows exactly what she needs to clear her head.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	Just Let Me Adore You

Christine’s eyes scanned the same line of music a dozen times; she hardly realized her tea had gone cold, save for the lack of warmth from the porcelain. It was quiet in the cavern, and cold. All Christine heard was Erik’s quill scratching on parchment, making notes on the latest piece of music which consumed him, and her own breathing, coming out in short, frustrated huffs. She pulled the soft, thick blanket tighter around her shoulders and shook her body out before straightening her posture and looking at the music sheet before her once again.

Notes blended together, the melody ebbed and flowed in her brain, like a tide going in and out, never remaining long enough to grasp.

She didn’t know how much time passed, but it was enough to know she was making no progress.

Glancing up from her position on the velvet settee, Christine’s eyes instinctually settled on Erik. Most of the time she was content to watch him work, the way his broad shoulders moved beneath his thin, cotton shirt as he played several notes, then returned to the sheet music to write down adjustments. It had taken time for Erik to feel comfortable enough to wear something as simple as a loose-fitting shirt, with a distractingly deep opening in the front, and black trousers. Christine reveled in the sight.

Most of the time she was content. Now, however, was not most of the time.

Her skin felt hot and itchy as she regarded him. She knew what she wanted, she could feel it in the throb between her legs and the dryness of her mouth. Convincing Erik while he was entranced by his music was a risk. Not for his ire, she had long since learned how to respond to that in the most effective ways to make him feel ashamed, but for his enthusiastic response. Getting him to respond positively to her body, to her carnal offers of pleasure, was typically easy - she hardly need do anything at all. He was focused on his music now, though, and she respected that, knowing it wholly preoccupied him.

Still, her fingers twitched at her sides. Quietly, she brought her hands to her breasts, though whether to give them a task or bring herself a modicum of pleasure, she did not know. As her hands roamed, she had no aim or purpose, but grasped at the small drops of relief they provided.

Christine knew if he turned and saw her, he would swiftly rise and come to her side, abandoning his music for the evening. His lips would pull into a mirthful smirk as he gleefully watched and commented on her insatiable appetite. She remained quiet, however, gaze devouring him, hands and lips imagining the feel of his body. Her nipples tightened beneath the thin layer of her chemise and her legs twitched as her fingers danced across her thighs. This would never be enough.

That is when Christine had an idea.

Her Maestro impressed upon her the importance of focus and dedication early on in their lessons. Should he not show he possesses such traits as well? Christine smiled at her own deviance and got to her feet. She padded mutely across the space, chemise whispering over her legs. Goosebumps spread across her skin, adding to the sensations she already felt between her legs and in her taut nipples.When she stepped up behind him, she laid her hands softly on his shoulders and felt his muscles jump beneath them.

When Erik tried to turn, removing his fingers from the ivory keys, Christine quickly steered his shoulders back towards the instrument.

"Keep playing," she murmured. "You know how I love it."

There was a time she could not have done any of this -- approaching him and surprising him, giving him a command, albeit a gentle one. A thrill shot down her spine as he obeyed, fingers swiftly dancing across the organ. She resumed her movements, running her hands across his back, over his shoulders, massaging his neck gently. When one hand brushed his bone-white mask, she felt him tense; she was still working on that. Her hands ran down his arms as she leaned forward, pressing her lips firmly to his head so he would feel the pressure through his wig. His body thrummed beneath her fingertips and for a moment she felt unsure of the anxiety she was causing him, not letting him in on her plan. But the moment passed quickly enough.

Christine slowly moved from her position behind and went around to the side of the bench. There were many perks to Erik’s height -- his reaching abilities, how her daintier frame felt covered by his own. At the moment, however, his legs, and their neverending length, topped them all.

She slipped onto the bench beside him with ease, quickly bringing their thighs flush against one another. She didn’t miss his full-body twitch or the brief, sharp intake of breath. A knowing smile graced her features as she took it all in. Christine first came to his bed many months ago. In that time, they’d come a long way. Nerves, doubts, a lack of communication were all (mostly) things of the past. Still, his desire and reverence for her never failed to thrill her. She remained at work on dismantling the pedestal he placed her on long ago, but the marble was certainly chipped and crumbling by now. It didn’t mean she wanted to fully lose these moments of lust and power, though.

"The piece is coming along nicely," Christine said, arching her neck to look up at him.

His eyes flicked to her momentarily. "You, my dear, say that about all my compositions." A lop-sided smile appeared on his face, making her own breath catch. She wouldn’t call him a beautiful man by any means, but his smile never failed to reach straight inside her and create a torrent of butterflies.

"Well, it’s true of all of them."

He hummed in response and kept playing.

Christine leaned her head against Erik’s shoulder and sat and watched him play for several minutes. Before his music could trap her entirely, Christine refocused her eyes and stretched a hand to cover his closest thigh. The idea, she reminded herself. His thigh muscles tightened beneath her grasp and she started running her palm up and down his leg. She heard the sharp inhale through his gaping nostrils and failed terribly at swallowing back a high-pitched giggle. To Erik’s credit, he continued playing flawlessly.

Music filled every space between them, big and small, and Christine closed her eyes. Her hand moved on instinct, tracing the pads of her fingertips over his knee and pressing her palm against his inner thigh. His muscles jumped beneath her touch, but his playing remained impeccable. Sometimes this was enough, a shared space, music accompanied by steady, shallow breathing, and warm touches. 

In the several months since their relationship became physical, Christine still thrilled in their touches. A kiss on the forehead, his fingertips digging into the soles of her feet after a particularly grueling day of ballet, tracing circles on each other’s skin absentmindedly. It warmed her all over, from her toes to the tips of her ears. She knew it would not forever be like this, had read and heard enough from other women in the opera house that couples did not always remain so blissfully eager for one another. She could not imagine them any other way, however, so devoted to their desire to touch and be touched.

Instinctually, Christine’s hand moved higher until her fingers came to the apex of his thighs and she cupped him through his pants.

"Christine - !" Erik’s fingers flew from the keys.

"Ah, ah," she admonished, pushing his hands back to the organ with her free hand. "What was one of the first lessons you taught me?" At his quizzical expression, fingers playing once more, albeit slower than before. "Focus. Not getting distracted, no matter what is happening around you."

Her cupped hand squeezed gently and a deep-throated groan hissed through his teeth. Christine smiled to herself and turned her face further into his shoulder, inhaling deeply against the rough linen of his shirt. Moving forwards and back, she rubbed, increasing in pressure, and feeling him grow harder and harder. There was nothing quite as satisfying as knowing her own power over the fearsome Opera Ghost. While she would never wield it against him, she loved when they could enjoy it together.

When his finger slipped on a note, Christine took it as her cue to unbutton his trousers. She was impressed he kept playing and did not say anything. Clearly he had caught on to the game and was determined to follow the rules - at least for now. With some fumbling and trembling, Christine reached her hand beneath his trousers and underwear and when her fingers ghosted over his cock, his hips jerked instinctively. She slipped it from the confines of his clothing and immediately locked her eyes on the sight of her petite hand wrapped around him. Her heart began racing, nerves and giddy anticipation still getting the best of her.

"Christine…" The word came out as a revered whisper.

She responded, equally quiet: "Please, don’t stop playing."

The music continued to ring out in the cavernous space. As it did, Christine slipped from the bench, contorting her small body into the space below with his legs. All it took was a moment for Erik to catch on and push the bench back, giving her more room. She crept between his legs and let out a tense breath. It was all going according to plan and he wasn’t questioning her or freezing up, as he had done before. Still, she felt the tightness in his legs and determined to put him at ease before going any further.

As she knelt on the floor, she was instantly grateful for the plush Persian rug he had laid beneath the organ. She leaned forward, rubbing her cheek against one knee and then the other. Her hands ran up and down his calves, thin but sturdy. She pressed firm kisses all across his thighs, following them with gentle, massaging circles from her fingers. Quickly, she recognized when the tension in his thighs and hips transformed from nerves to a maddening lust. His cock was hard, aching, and the head flushed red. As soon as her hands wrapped around him again, she heard a loud, discordant sound above and around her. With a smirk, she began drawing her palms over him, brushing his balls with her fingers, and pressing her thumb against the slit. His skin was searing and Christine’s heart had yet to slow. She still moved on instinct, not acknowledging her own skill and knowledge she had slowly been acquiring. He responded positively and her own jolt of pleasure shot straight down her spine.

Licking her lips, she pressed closer and wrapped her mouth around the head of his cock. He moaned loudly above her, hunching over the keys and breathing heavily. The first time she ever did this, she was most surprised at how soft his skin was here. It was something she still loved. As she licked now, it was like tasting the softest of silks, and she sighed contentedly. She swirled her tongue and ran the flat of it over the head. She could not boast to have the most refined technique, but the sounds he made and reactions of his body vanished any doubts from her mind.

Slowly, she took him deeper. Somewhere far away, or nearby, she couldn’t tell, she heard halting piano notes. They were inconsistent but determined, and a clear, if spotty, melody rang out. Christine took a moment to appreciate this fact, but soon enough refocused her attention on the weight and girth of his cock in her mouth. He was thick and sometimes difficult to adjust to, and she had to navigate her own boundaries and limitations. What had been more difficult initially, however, was getting Erik to understand this did not reflect on him or her desire for him.

Christine stilled for several moments and tightened her lips around him, sucking and hollowing her cheeks. She hummed softly and heard him make a keening sound as his hips gently jerked forward. The movement caused her to gag and she felt him quickly, instinctually pull his hips back before she grasped his thighs. Digging her nails in, she took him a little deeper before she began bobbing her head. While gagging was a largely unpleasant sensation, she was determined to make him know that not every unpleasant sensation was an unforgivable sin.

She felt him relax again - or as much as he could when her mouth was a hot cavern of saliva and tongue around his cock. After several moments, she gradually pulled her head back and released him with a dull _pop_. Her breathing was shallow and she looked up to find him watching her intently, fingers moving of their own accord across the keys. She felt a blush rise from her neck to her cheeks, but still she smiled coquettishly up at him. She wasn’t done yet.

He was still hard as steel when she grasped him with one hand. She began to pump her hand up and down his shaft, alternating between pressure and a feather-light touch. She could hear his own breathing, ragged and labored, even amidst the piano and her own breaths. When her jaw and mouth felt relaxed, she took him in again, keeping her hand wrapped around his base. She doubled her efforts now, sucking and squeezing, to give him the release she knew he sought.

"Ohh, Christine… _christ_."

Hearing how hoarse his voice was shot heat straight through her, pooling low and deep in her belly. She moaned around him and didn’t let up her ministrations. Around her, she felt the energy and tension of the moment build and build and build, reaching for release. In one swift moment, Christine felt Erik seize up and instead of letting him pull away, she pressed closer and felt the warm, bitter taste of his seed hit her tongue. Above her, Erik let out a guttural shout and slammed his fingers on the organ keys, producing a loud, cacophonous sound.

Only when Christine felt him softening in her mouth did she gently pull away, bringing a hand to her mouth to wipe the excess of his orgasm. Erik was still breathing heavily upon the bench, a sheen of sweat visible on his neck. Christine remained quiet as she watched him and pressed soothing circles into his hips with her fingers. As the sounds lessened, Erik finally dropped his head to look down at her, his mouth slack and eyes heavy and content. She couldn’t have fought the smile she broke into if she tried.

Without warning, Erik reached down and grasped Christine’s arms, hoisting her up with a grunt. Unceremoniously, he positioned her on his lap and seized her mouth with his own. She gasped softly and surged forward, kissing him with equal vigor. She ran her tongue across his own, reaching whatever parts of his lips and mouth she could reach with his mask in the way. When they pulled away, they stared into each other’s eyes for several moments.

"Ah, my little Delilah," he said throatily.

She pursed her lips at the name and twined her arms around his neck, tugging on his wig. "There will be no betrayal from me, mon ange."

His gaze softened and he kissed her again, tender and sweet. "I do not deserve you."

"It is not about deserving. It is my choice and one day, you are going to cease making me remind you of that," she said firmly as she rose from his lap and stepped away.

He caught her hand quickly. "Do you not, ah, require your own…" His gaze dropped to her hips and thighs for a moment, before darting back up.

"Later, perhaps." Christine stepped forward again and pressed a kiss to his masked cheek. "But now I find myself with a much clearer head and I must return to my music." She heard him chuckle elegantly behind her as she returned to the settee and her abandoned sheet music.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first finished and published fic in a while! I have several others at varying stages of completion in a notebook/Google Docs, so hopefully this motivation remains and I'll be publishing more soon!


End file.
